


A Little Secret

by itsallhushhush



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Finger Sucking, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Pedo!Petyr, Preteen!Sansa, Pseudo-Incest, Smut, Uncle-Niece Relationship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallhushhush/pseuds/itsallhushhush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Sansa has a crush on her Uncle Petyr. </p><p>A sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5888686/chapters/14587399">Birthday</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Secret

When her parents told her they were going on holiday in the south, Dorne to be exact, and that she was to stay with her Aunt Lysa in their absence, Sansa was overcome with a mix of emotions.  
  
It had been month, or perhaps a bit longer, since she had last been to her aunt's estate in attendance of her Uncle Petyr's birthday celebrations. But the memory of finding her uncle in that room and the actions that took place between them was still fresh in her mind.  
  
There were many a nights since that day, alone in her bed, when she wondered to herself what might have transpired had Arya’s voice not interrupted them. Her heart would race with her child's imagination, and her hand would sneak between her legs to touch “the sweet spot”, but in her innocence she was not aware of the number of depraved things her uncle may have wanted from her.  
  
\---  
  
Sansa’s mother walked her to the door of Lysa’s estate, and her hands trembled nervously as she tightly gripped her pink suitcase—packed neatly with a week's worth of clothing and a number of her favourite books. She was the only Stark child to spend the week with her aunt, as Arya and Bran were both attending summer camp and her mother did not trust her teenaged brothers, Robb and Jon, to take care of her.  
  
Lysa greeted them both with hugs and a promise to her sister that she would care for Sansa as if she were her own. Though, Sansa knew it was not her aunt Lysa’s parenting skills that her mother should have worried about.  
  
\---  
  
Once Sansa had settled herself in one of the many guest rooms—decorated specifically for her—she decided to adventure to the estates library, which held so many books it was very much like a miniature version of the city library her father often took her to.  
  
Having been in her aunt's library before she would usually find her way to the section of books that were her usual interest: medieval fantasy. Sometimes, though, she would just stroll along the rows, her delicate fingers dancing over dust-covered spines, as she aimlessly read the titles—it was one of the latter days.  
  
She was secluded near the back of the library and surrounded by a multitude of words and thousands of stories that were sitting patiently, just waiting to be discovered. Her fingers left clean streaks in the dust on the bookshelves as she sauntered up and down the rows, and she was startled, turning quickly in place when she heard a voice from behind her.  
  
“Hello Sansa.” He stood near the end of the aisle, leaning against a bookshelf with his calculating, cat-like gaze fixed on her. She hadn’t heard him approach—perhaps another way he was cat-like—and she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her. She was unsure if the idea of him watching her thrilled, or unnerved her.

The crush she had on the man she called Uncle had not waned in the slightest since their last meeting, and she was just at that age—closer to twelve than eleven—where her feelings were a mix between childlike innocence and the budding sexual curiosity of a young girl.  
  
“Hello Uncle Petyr,” she replied, her voice soft and quiet, a learned behaviour from visiting many public libraries. She felt the sentiment still applied within the confines of her aunt’s replica.  
  
“I hear you’re staying with us a few days,” he spoke as he pushed off from the bookshelf and began to meander toward her.  
  
“A week,” she corrected, and she watched his brows twitch upward, a smirk ghosting on his lips.  
  
He continued walking toward her, slowly, with his grey eyes never leaving her face. “A week. Seven days. Seven days with Sansa. That could be the title of a book,” he mused, as he was surrounded by them. “What sort of story do you suppose it would be?”  
  
“I don’t know,” she said, barely shrugging her slim shoulders.

Her attention was on the man as much as his was on her, and when he was less than an arm's length away, he reached out, twirling a tendril of soft, copper hair around his finger. Sansa’s icy blue eyes flicked toward the contact, then back to her uncle’s smirking expression.

Petyr pushed the long hair behind her shoulder, exposing the dainty column of her neck and he leaned in, lips hovering next to her ear. “Have you kept our secret, Sansa?” He asked, letting his lips skim the shell of her ear.

Goosebumps rose on her fair skin and her heart rate quickened by a number of beats. She nodded in reply--it was a secret she could tell no one, not even the tattered teddy bear that took permanent residence on her bed, and it was unusual for herself to deny telling Mr. Teddy secrets of any kind.

“Good girl,” he whispered and she took pleasure in his praise.

He didn't move away immediately, instead, he held fast to his position, breathing hotly against her neck, causing a shiver to find its way down her spine. And her eyes fluttered closed when his lips skimmed over the sensitive skin below her ear. Then lower until his mouth reach just above the junction where her neck met her shoulder. He pressed his lips, dry and warm, to the spot and when the wet heat of his tongue licked over the place he had just kissed, a whimper of surprise rose in her throat, but she swallowed it back before it echoed into the silence of the room.

He licked and sucked her skin, causing it to tender at the very spot he was lavishing so much attention and she gasped when he gently sank his teeth into her flesh, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough that it would surely cause the skin to purple.

He straightened, bringing the pad of his thumb to wipe the wetness from her neck, as he inspected the quickly forming bruise. “That's gonna leave a mark,” he informed, though grinned as if happy with his creation. “Just make sure Auntie Lysa doesn't see it, alright? She's a bit of a jealous woman.” He then raised his brows at her, waiting for a response.

Sansa nodded dutifully and positioned her hair back over her shoulder, as it was before Petyr disrupted it, successfully covering the mark.

Her uncle’s mouth pulled into a smile, presumably happy that she knew how to keep a secret, but there was a look in his eye that told her the smile may have been for a much different reason.

She watched him turn and walk away, and when he was completely out of sight she reached up, tracing her fingers over the spot she knew was now marked by him.

And she bit her lip, suppressing a small smile.

\---

Sansa sat quietly over breakfast--pancakes, Robin always wanted pancakes--and only blushed slightly when her uncle Petyr took his place at the table and greeted her with a “Good morning.”

They all sat round the formal dining table eating, as Robin whined about his food, Lysa chatted away about her plans for the day, and Petyr nodded along, presumably, listening to what his wife was saying.

She kept her attention squarely on her breakfast plate as she did not chance a look toward the man who, only a day ago, sucked a purple-green bruise into her neck--which she kept hidden behind a curtain of copper hair. She only looked up when she heard her aunt speak her name.

“Sansa dear, don't you ever wear your hair up?” Lysa asked, perhaps noticing the way Sansa was hiding behind her long locks.

“I-I do, yes, sometimes,” she replied, holding back a nervous quiver that threatened to leak into her voice.

“You should wear it up more often. You’ve such a pretty face, it's a shame that you hide it behind all that hair. Don’t you agree, Petyr?” Her aunt posed and Sansa’s eyes flicked toward he, who was now looking at her.

“You’re Aunt Lysa’s right, it really is a shame to hide behind your hair,” he said so simply and kindly, but his eyes flickered with a knowing glint of the indecency he had left on her skin.

Sansa turned her attention back to the plate, as she tried her best to cover the fact that her cheeks were burning red.

\---

For two days Petyr had been called away on a business meeting, and though Sansa felt a sense of calm knowing he was not in the house and able to sneak up on her unexpectedly, she also felt a sense of sadness and a longing for his return. It was rightfully confusing, how he was able to make her so nervous, while also making her thin frame humm with curiosity and excitement when he was near.

And on the day of his return, she tried her best not to smile too widely when he came through the door.

\---

Sansa stayed in the library all that day, wearing her nicest sundress, as she had half-expected him to seek her out. What she was expecting to happen when he found her there, she didn't really know--perhaps maybe just a kiss, a simple peck on the lips--but to her dismay he did not come looking for her. So she busied herself in a book, wasting the entire day, and hiding her hurt feelings.

When she woke during the middle of the night, with a thirst on her tongue, she stole down to the main floor to get a drink of milk from the kitchen. But, on her way back to her room she noticed the flicker of a television from the living room and, out of interest, she stepped quietly inside the doorway.

Petyr was sitting in an oversized lounge chair, that was nearly big enough for two people, and she noticed, by the flickering of light across his features, that his expression was tense. His attire was slightly askew, still wearing his clothes from his business trip--save for the suit jacket and tie--and the sleeves of his perfectly pressed shirt were rolled up his forearms. And on a side table, next to the chair, there sat a half empty bottle of amber liquid and a small glass with melting ice.

As it was late, and he did not look in the mood for a silly girl to be gawking at him, Sansa turned to leave. But before she could sneak out the door unnoticed, she heard him call her name.

“Sansa,” he spoke to her, “Won't you sit with me?”

She turned back around then, and looked at him a moment before he spoke again.

“Well?”

“Um...okay,” she said and walked into the room, across in front of him, making her way to the unoccupied couch--which, matching the chair, was also oversized.

“No,” he said, his voice on the edge of sternness, which stopped Sansa in her tracks, “ _with me_.” He gestured to his lap.

She blinked at him. Did he really want her to sit on his knee? Was she not getting too old for such a thing?

“Come,” he beckoned for her once again, and this time she obeyed, though hesitantly.

She didn't know how to place herself upon the chair, or rather, upon his lap, but he guided her where to sit--mostly on one of his legs, sort of sideways--and she couldn't help the nervousness she felt being in such a position and so close to him. Her entire body was a tense bundle of muscle, which he must have felt as well.

“Relax, Sansa,” he said to her, and she could smell the tang of alcohol on his breath and the heady spice of his cologne.

She did as suggested and tried her best to relax. Gently, she let herself rest back against his chest and she could feel his body heat soaking into her skin--even through their clothes.

“I'm not even sure what I'm watching,” he said, his mouth now very near to her ear with the way she was sitting.

She stared at the tv, she didn't know what program flashed across the screen either, but she watched it in silence as she tried her best to ignore the hand that came to rest on her bare knee. He gave it a gentle squeeze, perhaps to see if she would react, but she didn't. She kept as still as possible, laying against her uncle’s body. His thumb skimmed over top her knee, and her skin prickled when he moved his hand along her thigh, which was covered with pale, downy hair as she had not yet a reason to shave.

“You know, I thought about you the entire time I was away,” he whispered to her ear. “I could hardly bear knowing my beautiful niece was here without me.”

Her heart practically bloomed at his words. He thought she was beautiful. He thought of her while he was gone. She felt it very hard to believe his words, but she wanted to. Oh how she wanted to.

His touch inched up her leg even further, beneath her knee-length night shirt, and she squirmed a little in his lap when his fingers came so dangerously close to where they had been that evening of his birthday.

“Did you think of me too?” He asked and Sansa only nodded, afraid of how her voice may waver if she were to speak. “I thought you might’ve,” he said, moving his hand further up her body, touching against her lower belly. “I know you have a crush on me,” he told her, “I can see it in your face, every little smile, every blush.”

She wanted to shake her head. She wanted to deny it until she was blue in the face, but she would only be lying--and surely he would be able to see through that. She wasn't a very good liar. And surely she wouldn't be sitting in his lap, letting him put his hand beneath her night shirt if she didn't feel anything for him. Though, she was not so sure she could stop him either way.

His fingers crawled along her frame, tickled their way up her rib cage, and stopped when they reached the beginning bud of a breast. She shifted against him, a slight whimper falling from her soft pink lips, as he stroked the pad of his thumb back and forth across her small sensitive nipple.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a whisper against her ear, bringing his hand back down to her belly, the tips of his fingers brushing against the very edge of her panties. She didn't say a word and he spoke again. “Tell me, do you want me to stop?”

Sansa’s cheeks burned red. “No,” she finally replied, and she felt Petyr's hand slide beneath the waistband of her panties--he was not wasting time teasing her through the fabric as he had last time. Her legs were spread on either side of his thigh, giving him perfect access to what he wanted, and he cupped his entire hand over the small mound between her legs. He caressed her gently over the softness that was her sex, and then dipped a finger into the growing wetness between her lips.

She rested her head back against his shoulder and her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his hand exploring between her legs. His fingers were deft as they touched, stroked, and caressed her, and she let out a breathy whine as the digits teased over “the sweet spot”--as he had called it before. It was so sensitive that she could barely stay still as he continued to stroke her there and she was practically writhing in his lap.

Petyr kissed the edge of her jaw. “You like that, yeah? You’re getting so wet.”

Sansa didn't respond and he pressed another kiss to her jaw, open mouthed and wet against her skin. “Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you?” He practically growled into her ear, and Sansa shook her head, not completely aware of what he was saying. “So, so, much.”

With his fingers sufficiently wet, he moved from teasing her clit to her entrance, where he gently pressed the tip of his finger inside her. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he told her, and continued to push his finger into the heat of her virgin cunt.

She squirmed at the intrusion, it was unlike anything she had felt before, and she wasn't entirely sure if she enjoyed it or not. It just felt like a strange bit of pressure.

Petyr moved his finger slowly in and out, sliding it in further with each motion inward until his finger was completely inside her. “You're so tight,” he said, as he wiggled the digit, crooking it gently to rub against the walls of her cunt.

He continued to finger her as she fidgeted in his lap, breathing in little panting breaths, and she was mostly quiet until he tried to press another finger in alongside the first.

She sucked in a sharp gasp, and her body tensed against him. “It...it hurts,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” he replied, and with his unoccupied hand he turned her head toward him to press his lips against hers. “I'm sorry.”

With his finger still working in and out of her, he brought his thumb to rub and circle around her clit, which made her whimper once again--a sound that was like music to his ears.

Sansa’s entire body was tingly and sensitive and she didn't turn her head away as her uncle continued to kiss her. His mouth wet and parted against hers, and when he pressed down on her chin, coaxing her to part her lips, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She had never imagined such a way to kiss before, and the feeling of his tongue licking into her mouth sent a shiver down her spine.

Her heart was racing, and she was panting heavily between kisses from Petyr as his fingers were working skillfully between her legs, but when she began to feel an overwhelming swell of something inside her she gripped tightly to her uncle’s forearm. “Please stop, please,” she nearly begged, her thin fingers digging into his arm desperately, and he did as she asked.

“Have I hurt you?” He questioned, and there was concern in his eyes--not an expression she was familiar seeing on the man.

“No I just...I,” she spoke through panted breaths. Glancing down, she looked at Petyr's hand, that glistened with her wetness and she felt her stomach twist with embarrassment and her cheeks flush an even darker shade of red than they already were.

Before Petyr could catch hold of her arm, to keep her from leaving, she was scrambling from his lap and out the door as fast as her skinny legs could take her.

On his pants there was a wet spot from where she had been sitting, and in his pants his cock was hard and straining for release.

\---

Sansa successfully avoided her uncle for a day by feigning sick. Lysa let her spend the entire day in bed whilst bringing her snacks so she could eat if she got hungry. She had her books as well, so it wasn’t such a bad day all in all, but her mind did wander to the previous night. She blushed just thinking about what had happened, what she had allowed her uncle Petyr do to her. She knew in her heart that it was wrong, but, secretly, she knew that if he only asked she would let him do it again.

\---

Mid-afternoon, on the day before she was leaving, she found herself standing in the hallway near Petyr's office. Her parents would be around to pick her up in the early morning, and she knew that this might be the last she would get to see him. Though, she had no real reason to seek him out, and it took her a while before she allowed herself to knock on the door.

“Yeah, come in,” his voice came from within the room.

Sansa smoothed her hands down over her simple, white, knee length dress before carefully entering the room. Petyr was sitting at his large, L-shaped desk with his laptop opened up before him. He was dressed almost casually, with dark slacks and a pale blue shirt that had been rolled up his forearms--much like that night in the living room. He had his phone pressed to his ear, listening to someone on the other end, and when he swivelled around in his chair to see her standing there he perked his brows.

Staring at her, he spoke into the phone, “Yeah, well, something’s just come up, I'll call ya back.” Hanging up the phone, he shoved it into his pocket.

Sansa stood inside the doorway, looking back at Petyr as he seemed to study her.

“You were avoiding me, I thought,” he said then and she felt her cheeks turn pink.

“I was not feeling well,” she lied, and he smirked, knowing the truth, but didn't challenge her on it.

He pursed his lips, raising his brows. “Where's your Aunt Lysa?”

“She's taken Robin to a doctor's appointment,” Sansa replied.

“So you've come to interrupt me while I'm supposed to be working?”

She felt a painful twinge of disappointment in her chest at her uncle's words. Perhaps, she shouldn't have come to see him. Maybe he really didn't care about her as much as she had thought, or as much as she had wanted.  
  
“I'm sorry, I just…” she looked down at her bare feet against the dark hardwood floor. “I'm leaving tomorrow,” she said quietly. “But, I’m sorry, I’ll go.” She reached for the doorknob.  
  
“Sansa.” Petyr's voice was firm and she looked toward him, her hand still on the doorknob. His mouth pulled into a grin. “I welcome the interruption. Especially from you.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Come here, and I will show you that I'm sure.”

Sansa walked toward the man and his gaze was on her the entire time. When she was near enough he reached out and pulled her closer so that she was standing between his legs.

“You look pretty today,” he complimented and she smiled bashfully. “Very pretty.” Leaning forward he pressed his lips to her smaller pair, and when he pulled away she could feel that she was blushing--as if it was the first time he had ever kissed her.

Holding her head in both hands he brought their lips together again, kissing her with a bit more force this time. His tongue grazed over her bottom lip and she knew what he wanted. She let her lips part and he kissed her deeper, his tongue delving into her innocent mouth. The feeling was enough to make her shiver.

When he pulled away from the kiss his lips were reddened and wet, and she was nearly panting with anticipation of what he may do next. Though, she had no idea what he had in store for her.

His grey eyes stole down her small frame, slightly lanky for a girl her age, and she felt warmed beneath his hard gaze. His tongue flicked out over the red of his thin lips as he reached up to put his hands on either side of her tiny waist.

“I want to taste you,” he said, his voice dark and lustfilled.

Her tawny brows pulled together in confusion. She could feel the heat of his hands radiate through the thin white cotton of her dress. “Taste me?” She questioned. Did he want to lick her hand like a cat or to bite into her like a rabid dog? She didn't understand.

His mouth twisted into an amused grin and leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. “I want you to spread your legs for me so I can lick your sweet little cunt,” his breath was like fire against her ear, and his hands gripped tighter to her waist, “and I'm not gonna stop until you come.”

The vulgarity of his intention made her skin prickle and the place between her legs ache shamefully. She then felt his hands move down over her dress and beneath the skirt, touching along her outer thighs until his fingers met the thin band of her underwear.

“You won't be needing these,” he said, a quick smirk of his mouth, and began pulling the panties down her legs.

Her hands were shaking as she held onto his shoulders and stepped out of her underwear. Though, Petyr did not leave them on the floor, instead he examined the small cotton panties--white, with smiling, cartoon, daisies printed over them--and Sansa’s eyes widened when he brought the childish fabric to his nose and inhaled.

“If you taste as good as you smell, I'm in for a treat,” he said, and let the underwear fall to his lap.

Grabbing hold of her waist once again, in one effortless motion, he lifted her up and sat her on the edge of his desk. He looked at her from beneath his brows, and pressed a gentle kiss to each of her knees. Her hands twitched with the urge to touch him, to put her hands in his neatly styled hair, which had begun to show his age at the temples.

“You should probably lay back,” he advised as he pushed her dress up her thighs.

She hesitated, her heart was pounding in her chest, but then did as she was told and laid back, bending awkwardly at the waist so that she wasn't pressed against the wall. When she felt him push her dress up to her waist, exposing her completely, her entire body burned with embarrassment. Of all the things he had done, and places he had touched, at least her body had stayed hidden beneath her clothing. At least there had been a barrier between the shameful things she had let him do to her, but now there was nothing. He could see everything, and she pressed her thighs together to preserve her purity for as long as she possibly could--though could she still consider herself pure with the way he had already made her feel?

“Part your legs for me,” he said, his hand resting on her knee.

Sansa's stomach twisted anxiously. Her legs dangled over the edge of the desk and, tentatively, she let her thighs fall apart just a few inches, as she was shy of her body being seen in such a way.

“Further,” he instructed, the hand on her knee now coaxing her to spread her legs wider for him.

Petyr licked his lips as he stared at the sight before him. She was all soft, supple skin and the small mound between her legs was almost completely smooth, save for a bit of hair that was akin to the fuzz of a juicy peach. He grinned briefly, then pressed a kiss high on her inner thigh, and she squirmed slightly at the contact. With his nose now so close to her cunt he could smell her scent and he pressed his palm to his hardening cock.

Slowly, he trailed a line of kisses down from her belly button, and then kissed either side of her pussy, taking his time. He could hear the way her breathing changed with each time he put his mouth to her skin and, when he flattened his tongue and dragged it over the thin pink gash, he heard her breathing hitch.

The feeling of his tongue, hot and firm against her, was so strange that she couldn't help but fidget. She then gasped sharply as his wet tongue delved between her lips and began to explore in much the same way his fingers had--though, this felt entirely different from anything he had done with his hands. Her cheeks burned red hot as she chanced a look down to see her uncle's head between her thighs, and she knew everything that was happening was wrong of both of them. She knew that she shouldn't be like this, that it wasn't entirely normal to feel such a way about her uncle, and that perhaps it wasn't normal for him to feel such a way toward her. But she knew she couldn't stop him, knew that she didn't want to.

She let out a breathy whine, as he licked over and between her lips, smelling her, tasting her, and the sound of her pleasure make his cock throb, which he gripped tightly through his trousers causing himself to let out a bit of a groan. With his thumbs, he spread her lips apart, and admired the beautiful pink of her pussy, before dipping forward and flicking his tongue over the delicate nub of her clit, eliciting a moan from her pretty mouth.

Trailing down from her sensitive nub he teased his tongue over the entrance of her cunt and pressed the firm tip inside of her as far as he could. He was so tempted to use his fingers on her again, to push two into her as far as he could, to stretch her open enough that he would be able to fit his cock inside. It would be a tight fit for sure, but he would be as gentle as he could possibly be for a man with such a strong desire to have her. And he would fuck her bare, without the need of a condom, as he knew there would be no worry if he came deep inside her tight cunt.

The thought of fucking her made him nearly insane with want and he couldn't help himself as he greedily sucked and licked her pussy, wanting her so badly to come, just to hear the sound of her moans.

Sansa felt her entire body tremble, her thighs were shaking, and the place Petyr had his mouth felt so sensitive that she could barely stand his touch. She felt as if she were a balloon, ever expanding, and on the verge of popping.

“Petyr,” she whimpered, “I can't...please, stop.” But it was like he hadn't heard her, and his mouth kept lavishing her with a sensation she had never felt before. Then, suddenly, like the snapping of a taut rubber band, she was overwhelmed with such an intense feeling that her entire body shook and a cry of pleasure fell from her lips.

She laid there on the desk, breathing heavy, and blinking up at the ceiling, and she was completely engulfed by the most warm, relaxed feeling she’d ever experienced before. And when she looked toward her uncle, he was looking back at her smiling.

Reaching into his pocket, Petyr pulled out his phone, and, before she had a chance to protest, he quickly snapped a number of pictures of the girl laid out in front of him. Her dress was still hiked up to her waist, and her legs were spread with a perfect view of her glistening mound, the soft outer lips all swollen and pink from his mouth.

“You're a beautiful girl,” he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket, and he leaned forward to speak near her ear. “And your pussy tasted so good.”

There would have been a visable blush on her cheeks if her face wasn't already tinged red.

“Come, you can sit up now,” he said, and helped her into a sitting position on the desk, where she pulled her dress back down to cover herself.

When Petyr sat back in his chair, her attention dropped to his lap where his hand was rubbing and squeezing at an obvious bulge in his pants.

“Have you ever seen a cock?” He asked, punctuating the question by gripping himself tightly through his pants.

Sansa thought to the one time she had accidentally seen her little brother Bran naked. It was such a brief moment that she hardly had a chance to see the small hanging thing between his legs. “Um...no,” she replied, as it was mostly the truth.

“Do you want to?”

She stared at him, too embarrassed to admit that she did.

He grinned. “I'll take that as a yes,” he said and began to unbuckle his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He pulled up his shirt, exposing his abdomen which was sparsely covered in hair, and then, reaching into his underwear, he pulled out his cock, letting it rest against his lower belly. Letting her see.

Sansa swallowed, her eyes darting from his face to the _thing_ displayed before her. She wasn't sure how long she should look, but she couldn't take her eyes off it. It was so pink against the background of his stomach and dark pubic hair, and the blood filled tip was so red that it was almost purple. She thought it was strange that looking at him like this made her heart race and the place between her legs tingle. Surely there was something wrong with her, as a girl her age shouldn't feel this way.

Petyr languidly stroked his cock, foreskin pulling up over the purple head on each upstroke, and he stared at the young girl watching him with wide, curious eyes. The look of awe on her sweet, innocent face made his cock throb and he let out a half groan as he shifted in his chair, stretching out a bit. “You should come closer,” he said, hand still on his cock, and in his other hand he held tightly to her discarded panties.

She was hesitant, wasn't sure if she should, but slowly slid off the desk and took the couple steps needed to be standing between his spread legs. She was close enough that she would barely have to reach out to touch him, to touch it.

“Do you like it?” He asked, looking at her with a smirk.

She blushed and gave her shoulders a quick shrug.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed her. He watched her hesitate a moment, but then she put her hand on his thigh and, like a good little girl, sank to her knees before him. She looked up at him through long feathery lashes, and he knew she had no idea how seductive she looked like that. How badly he wanted to pressed the head of his cock against her pretty pink lips, to make her take him into her mouth, to have her little red head bobbing up and down in his lap. She had no idea.

She was watching him intently as he thumbed over the head of his cock, spreading the precum, making it slick and shiny. And, letting go of her panties, he reached up to stroke her cheek. “Such a pretty girl,” he practically cooed, and dragged his thumb across her lower lip.

Sansa smiled at his words, feeling almost embarrassed to hear him compliment and praise her so much. Her eyes were on his face and then to the display before her, so close to her.

“Part your lips,” he said and, when she obeyed, he slid two fingers into her mouth.

She was taken aback by contact and almost pulled away, but didn't, as she craved any bit of contact he gave her, and slowly he began to move his fingers over her tongue.

“Suck on them,” he urged, his voice a bit strained as his other hand quickened its pace over his cock. And when she began sucking on his fingers, her cheeks hollowing as she did, he could feel himself so close to coming.

Sansa did as was asked of her and continued to suck on his fingers, and she watched with great curiosity as his hand moved faster and faster, could see the muscles of his abdomen twitch and contact. Then, suddenly, his fingers were gone from her mouth and he let out a heady groan as she watched, with a gaping mouth, as cum spurted from his cock and began dripping down over his knuckles.

Letting go of his cock, that was now beginning to go soft from his release, he picked up Sansa underwear and used them to wipe the cum from his hand. “I'll keep these,” he said, and shoved them into his pocket. He then placed himself back into his underwear and zipped and buttoned his pants.

Sansa's heart was still racing, as she was sure his was as well and, before she could move to her feet, Petyr leaned forward, taking her head in his hands, and kissed her forcefully, pushing his tongue into her mouth. Pulling back, he moved to press his mouth next to her ear.

“You should go now, before you make me hard again and I have to fuck your little cunt,” he whispered what sounded like a warning, with an obvious grin in his tone.

She couldn't help but gasp at his words, and quickly she scurried to her feet, and hurried from his office with both fear and excitement twisting together in her belly.

\---

That night she found sleep hard to come by, and she had to resist every urge to touch herself, wanting to make herself feel the way her uncle Petyr had, with the memory of everything still so fresh in her mind.

\---

The next morning, before the sun had risen above the horizon, Sansa woke to the feeling of a hand caressing her cheek. Opening her eyes, she was not overly surprised to see Petyr sitting at the edge of her bed looking down at her with a soft smile.

“I have to go to work,” he spoke in a soft voice, his hand moving to stroke her messy hair, “but I wanted to say goodbye to you. I won't be home before you leave.”

Her heart sank a little in her chest, knowing that she would be leaving in a few hours, and her chances of seeing her uncle would become very far and few between. She pressed her lips together, hiding a pout, though she was sure that couldn't mask the displeasure on her face.

“You’re much too pretty to be sad,” he said, noticing her expression, and he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.

Sansa closed her eyes at the touch, but secretly wished he'd have kissed her lips.

“Be a good girl, okay?” He said and she nodded; she would do anything he asked of her. He smiled at her and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Can I tell you a little secret?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, nodding.

He moved in close to her ear, and whispered, “I love you very much, and I promise to have you back to visit as soon as I can.” With that said he moved to capture her lips in a soft kiss, and then stood, giving her one last look before slipping from her room.

Sansa closed her eyes, the feeling of the kiss lingering, and hearing him say those words, _I love you very much_ , made her heart feel as though it could burst from her chest.

And she would wait, with the unwavering patients of a young girl with a crush, to see him again.

 


End file.
